


Personal Feelings

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Developing Relationship, Diary/Journal, Embarrassment, F/M, First Time, Gossip, Porn, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 17:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: Tilly looked back to Michael. "So, uhh, it turns out someone posted one of your personal logs to one of the engineering group chats late last night.""What?" Michael asked, not understanding. Personal logs werepersonal."And look, no offense to Stamets, but clearly he's not working them hard enough if so many of them had time to watch it and start spreading gossip like it's friggin' junior high. Not that I have any experience with that. Um."
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Comments: 56
Kudos: 256





	Personal Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> There's a screwball comedy happening among the lower decks twenty-somethings, Tilly is their queen, and everything about it _delights me_. Also posted [here](https://alethia.dreamwidth.org/1046572.html).

Michael walked into the mess hall for breakfast, still breathing hard, her exercise shirt clinging to her as the sweat cooled on her skin. It was too early for alpha shift to be up yet, but too late for gamma shift to be done. She liked this time of day—all quiet and serene. It was the perfect time for her workout, the empty halls letting her run without fear of colliding with anyone, the even _thunk-thunk-thunk _of her footfalls lulling her into a meditative state. 

So it was a bit of a surprise to see Pike in the mess hall, in full uniform, just grabbing his tray. He spotted her, mouth curving in a welcoming half-smile and like _that_ all her calm evaporated, the familiar pulse of _heat _flaring within her. 

Dammit.

But she wasn't raised on Vulcan for nothing, keeping it off her face, nodding at him with a short, "Captain."

"Commander. Early workout?"

"I find it a good way to wake up." 

"I agree," he said, seeming almost envious. He nodded to one of the many empty tables. "Join me?"

Something fluttered inside Michael at the idea of the two of them, alone, all his focus on her. She wanted it even as she hated that he made her want it. But she had no real reason to refuse...and some part of her relished his attention, even as she shied away from it. 

The contradictions were maddening. 

"Let me just get some breakfast," she agreed. 

Pike nodded and took a seat while Michael ordered her usual egg white omelet, taking the tray when it was ready. She joined him at the little white table, noting that he had pulled out the chair across from him. For her. She didn't know why that struck her.

"You're up early, sir," she said, neutral, settling into her seat.

"More like up all night," he shot back, dry. Michael's mind flew to what kept you up all night—bodies moving together, whispered words, pleasure shared, all slick and hot. She could see it perfectly, Pike naked and pressing her down into soft sheets, mouth used as he smiled and kissed his way down her body. 

She instantly shut those thoughts down. As she always did. 

"Oh?" she said, strangled and trying to hide it. 

He nodded as he sipped his coffee. "You heard about the systems update?"

Michael swallowed, grasping for the safe topic with relief. "Tilly never came home. Did they figure out what happened?"

"Something about corrupted code. It doesn't seem to have affected critical systems, but all our logs got shuffled over to the public servers for a while. Including the classified ones," he said, shooting her a meaningful look. 

Michael winced, both sympathetic and tremendously grateful to be talking about sober work things. "That's less than ideal."

"No kidding. InfoSec took priority, but they're doing a full system audit to see what was accessed. It's a mess."

Michael tried to resist, but her curiosity got the better of her. "I didn't hear about an all hands situation." Generally, if the captain was involved in an emergency, _everyone_ was involved.

Pike waved a hand airily. "Nothing like that. I just offered a hand in engineering and they put me to work. I think Stamets was secretly delighted to order me around," he said, a pleased little smile playing on his face. 

"And you were delighted to let him," she guessed, smiling in response. 

Pike cocked his head, conspiratorial. "Well, when life hands you the chance to prove you're _not_ an idiot to irascible engineers..."

"So you stayed up all night playing code monkey? You're the _captain_," she chided, gentle. But at the same time, _of course he had_. This was exactly the type of thing he tended to do—lend a hand in a tough spot, just another member of the crew. 

It made everything harder. Her physical attraction to him was deeply inconvenient, if manageable. The respect that bubbled over every time he did something like this...it sent dangerous thoughts careening through her head, like maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to reach out and touch. If only to...see. 

"Worth it." He flashed her a grin, quick and bright. Then he stretched in his seat, the motion pulling her eyes to the line of his body. "But man, I am already feeling it. I haven't pulled an all-nighter in years. Outside of battle, of course."

He settled again and Michael flicked her eyes back to his face, swallowing against the pulsing want that screamed at her every time they were this close. He challenged her self-control in ways she didn't quite realize were possible. 

She covered her reaction with a sip of tea. "You should have Saru take the start of your shift. Get some rest."

"Nah," he said, genial. "I'll be fine. It builds character, as dear old dad used to say."

Before she could respond, the mess hall doors opened and Tilly rushed in, her hair a little wilder than usual, something manic around her eyes. She clearly hadn't slept. She beelined toward Michael, energy off. "Hey, can I talk to you?" she asked, eyes flying to Pike and then back again. 

"Ensign. How's the audit going?" Pike asked, patient and kind. Even that small thing sent a flutter through Michael's chest.

Tilly smiled, but it was stiff. "All good. Stamets and Reno will have a report for you soon. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," she said as she turned back to Michael, doing something with her eyes that was probably supposed to convey some meaning, but just left Michael confused. 

She frowned. "Oh?"

"Yeah, can we get out of here?" Tilly said, fidgeting a little, like she couldn't control the need to move. 

Now Michael was concerned. "What is it, Tilly?" 

Tilly's eyes flew to Pike again, but then she shook herself, a little visual _screw it_. "You know how all the logs got dumped on the public server last night?"

"I heard."

"It included all the personal logs. Your personal logs," Tilly clarified. 

Michael blinked...and _froze_. Pike furrowed his brow, leaning forward. "Yes, but they've all been relocated, right, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir. It's just—well, they were available to anyone. And I guess someone went snooping."

Pike stilled, his expression going dangerous. In that moment, Michael was suddenly viscerally aware that he was the most decorated captain in Starfleet for a _reason_.

She wished she didn't find that so compelling.

Thankfully, Pike was still focused on Tilly. "What do you mean, someone went snooping?"

Tilly looked back to Michael. "So, uhh, it turns out someone posted one of your personal logs to one of the engineering group chats late last night."

"What?" Michael asked, not understanding. Personal logs were _personal_. 

"And look, no offense to Stamets, but clearly he's not working them hard enough if so many of them had time to watch it and start spreading gossip like it's friggin' junior high. Not that I have any experience with that. Um." Tilly shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. 

Michael could relate. Personal logs were marked as such from the very start. To do this, you'd have to knowingly ignore that classification. And for what? For some kind of...spectacle?

She had spent so much of her life being a spectacle. She didn't need any more of it.

Sudden exhaustion swept through her. It really never ended. 

"Who did this?" Pike asked, quiet fury lacing his voice. 

Tilly stiffened at the tone, like she had been firmly reminded that this was the _captain_. "We don't know, sir," she said, apologetic. "It was posted anonymously."

"It doesn't really matter," Michael said, voice soft. The damage was done regardless. 

"The hell it doesn't," Pike shot back, heated. "We're Starfleet. We treat each other better than this." On that note, he stood, angrier than Michael had ever seen him. "Excuse me, ladies. I need to have a chat with the commanders." And he was off, walking stiffly out. 

Now that they were alone, Michael looked to Tilly, recalling the earlier attempt to pull her away. "The personal log...I talked about Pike, didn't I?"

Tilly nodded. "Boy, did you. And Tyler, too," she said, voice sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Michael."

Michael nodded, distancing herself from the embarrassment creeping under her skin. "Everyone knows?"

Tilly shrugged. "Not everyone saw, but you know how ships work."

Yes—a closed environment where many people had routine tasks that quickly bored them. The perfect gossip mill. By lunch everyone would know. Including Pike.

Michael closed her eyes as the embarrassment intensified. She didn't know what to do with her feelings for Pike, so she had done nothing, assured that she could just ignore them. 

She couldn't ignore them now. 

Michael took a calming breath, centering herself. What was done, was done. All she could do now was move forward. But first she needed the facts. 

She looked back to Tilly. "Show me."

***

Michael knew it would be revealing. But seeing it was _so much worse_.

She stood next to Tilly as the holo-vid played in their quarters, vaguely horrified to be watching herself: 

_“Personal Log, Stardate 1038.3: Our search for the red angel continues, with little progress. Amidst that I find myself...distracted by Captain Pike. It's...surprising,“ she finally said, shaking her head at herself. “I haven't felt this in a while. The desire. If it were just the physical, I could dismiss it. Biology and all.“ Michael shrugged, above that idea. But then she frowned, troubled. “But...he's such a good man. A brilliant captain. His principles are sacrosanct, his integrity unimpeachable. The pride of Starfleet...“_

Michael remembered making this log, as true today as it was then. But now it was overlaid with a wash of embarrassment that still hadn't faded, Michael realizing that people had _watched this_. Watched _her_, talking about wanting their captain. Worse, they'd shared it, spread it around, no doubt to mock, fodder for the endless gossip that pervaded any starship.

On screen, Michael continued: 

_“It's completely different than last time. Ash was...destabilizing. He always pushed, keeping me off balance. Making his little comments,“ she said, a tinge of bitterness to that. Michael visibly moved past the feeling as she went on, “And it's not even the rank. Lorca's advances didn't make me feel like this.“_

Michael closed her eyes. She hadn't told anyone about that. She'd certainly left it out of her reports. Now everyone would know. 

"Yeah, we're gonna talk about that," Tilly said, clearly clocking her reaction. 

Michael's voice continuing on drew her attention back to the log:

_“But Pike...when I'm with him it's like I'm totally grounded. I trust him implicitly, completely, not even a question. It's strange to be so confident in someone so soon. But with him, everything makes sense.“ She took a breath, clearly conflicted. “I guess that's destabilizing, too. In its way.“_

Michael marveled a little at how mournful she seemed. She rarely looked over her personal logs after she made them; she didn't have the time. It was such an odd thing to see herself so melancholy over someone being admirable. But she also understood it, intimately. Wanting something you couldn't have was a hell of a thing. 

_She shook her head. “I need to find a way to set it aside. My usual meditation hasn't really helped. I know it's a fantasy. A crush,“ she said, with evident distaste. “I'm one of his bridge crew, nothing more. Even if it were more, he's only posted on the Discovery temporarily. It's all...fleeting. So I'm doing my best to ignore it.“ _

_She swallowed. “But he really makes it very hard.“_

The log ended, Michael staring into blank air for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that _everyone had seen this_. 

And suddenly she was _furious_. Pike had gotten there sooner, _immediately_, and now Michael understood why. This wasn't _for_ anyone else. This was _hers_. They were her thoughts and feelings. Her personal logs were supposed to be a safe space to assess herself. That someone would violate that for some sort of public entertainment sent a rush of rage through her that was _breathtaking_ in its ferocity. 

"Michael?" Tilly asked, voice careful. 

She took a breath, calming herself. Allowing her emotions to control her was antithetical to who she was. No matter how justified those emotions might be. 

"Do people hate me?" she finally asked.

"What? No!" Tilly said, clearly taken aback. "Why would you say that?"

Michael gestured to the air, where the log had played. "Putting this out there, for everyone to see. It's...cruel." She shook her head. "I know that I can be demanding. That I excel. Both things can cause resentment. Maybe this was some form of punishment."

Tilly opened her mouth, but she seemed lost. "I have never heard people talk about you like that."

"Well, you wouldn't," she offered, reasonably. "Everyone knows we're close."

Tilly shook her head. "Okay, this is gonna blow your mind, but I think we should consider an innocent explanation here."

"Someone posted one of my personal logs to a department chat group," Michael said obviously, her tone decrying Tilly's suggestion. 

Tilly nodded, eyes big and sincere. "Which is super not cool and I will be first in line to punch that guy in the taint—because let's be real, this is totally the work of an engineering bro—but I'm just saying, it might not have been malicious."

"I fail to see how."

"Okay, really, truly I mean no offense, but while you treat feelings like they're dirty, shameful, must be avoided at all costs, other people don't so much. There's a world where this was just a, 'oh, huh, look at that,' kinda reaction and some clueless dudebro decided to share."

Michael couldn't fathom crossing boundaries like that, but then, that was her morality. Other people didn't hold themselves to the same standard. Normally it wasn't a problem. 

If only these were normal times. 

She deflated, shaking her head a little. "This is all hypothetical. If they find out who did it, we can ask, but until then I have to...face it." She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, aware of all the _looks_ she'd get for this. She was ruthlessly circumspect when it came to her personal life. That would only make it more delicious to people. 

Wanting the captain. For all the stars, why did she have to turn into such a cliché? 

"Yeah," Tilly agreed. Then she swallowed. "Speaking of awkward things you have to face...Lorca?" she asked, almost like an accusation.

Michael knew the real reason she was focused on that. "It was nothing. I didn't want to worry you."

"Bang up job you did there," Tilly shot back. 

"It was, actually. You never would have known if not for this," Michael said reasonably. 

"Why are you saying that like it's a _good_ thing?"

She shifted, disliking thinking about how much her life had been manipulated, in the end. "Look, it wasn't an accident that I ended up on the _Discovery_. Lorca, he—he _planned_ it all. But he's dead now. It doesn't matter."

Tilly stared at her, like she was trying to figure something out. "I know you don't have to tell me everything, but this feels like a bigger thing."

Michael shrank a little under the scrutiny. "I don't like thinking about it. It doesn't...have any bearing on my life. So just leave it. Please."

Tilly took her in for another moment before flaring her hands, giving in. "Fine. But you're the one who brought it up in that log. It has some bearing."

"Only because of the relative power dynamic. Pike is completely different."

Tilly nodded that point, nothing she could argue. She eyed Michael, sympathetic. "Have you figured out what you're going to say to him yet?"

"...what?" Michael asked, surprised. 

"You know, when you talk to him." Michael blinked. Tilly's expression went from curious to mildly chastising. "Michael, you have to talk to him about it."

"Or we could pretend it never happened," she offered. 

Tilly actually rolled her eyes. "This Vulcan repression thing is bananas to me. You know. He knows. _Everyone_ knows. Why pretend?"

"To avoid awkward conversations."

"You prefer awkward silences instead?"

"I hadn't planned that far ahead yet, but there's always avoidance. Pike won't be on the _Discovery_ forever."

"Oh, my god, that is the _worst_ plan. Aren't you supposed to be some tactical genius?"

"Yes," Michael shot back. "You should listen to me."

"You need to _talk to him_," Tilly said, each word precise. "If you don't it's just gonna make you crazy. Or make me crazy, I can't decide which is worse. Besides, Pike's solid. He'll be nice about it. Probably do the whole let you down easy thing."

"...'let you down easy?'" Michael echoed, slow. 

"You know, 'I totally respect you and value the friendship we have, blah blah blah. One time I got, 'I love you like a sister.' That was special." She tilted her head, considering. "Actually, I bet he's got a great letdown routine. He for sure gets hit on all the time."

Michael swallowed, not really wanting to think about that. Or any of it, really. On one level, she knew Tilly was right. Honesty was always the correct course of action, even if it was hard. 

But on another level...she just couldn't stomach the idea of standing before him and listening to the rejection. Tilly's hypothesis was undoubtedly correct; everything in his character indicated he would be kind about it. 

Something about that made it harder. He really was that good a man. 

"I need to shower and get ready for my shift," Michael said, setting the question aside. She didn't have to do anything right now. Aside from getting out of her workout clothes and into uniform. 

So she could go do her job. Like everyone else should. 

"This isn't the last time we're gonna talk about this," Tilly called after her. 

Michael didn't doubt it. 

***

Michael didn't even make it to the bridge before she was called into Pike's ready room. 

She steeled herself, quashing the roiling in her gut. Perhaps Tilly would get her wish. Pike was an upfront man. He might want to address it first thing. Michael still hated the thought, but she couldn't ignore a summons from her captain. No matter how she felt. 

But when she walked in, she found him unusually somber, almost mournful. There was a tiredness around his eyes that she wasn't used to, like the all-nighter was catching up to him. Like he'd been consumed with something he couldn't reconcile. 

Michael was surprised by her own flash of guilt. She'd never intended to make him feel this way.

"Burnham," he greeted, the exhaustion smoothing out in welcome. 

She nodded to him. "Sir."

"I hate to start the shift with bad news, but hey, might as well get it out of the way," he said with an apologetic head tilt. 

Michael blinked. She hadn't expected such a...casual opening salvo to this conversation. "Bad news?" she asked, neutral. 

"I talked to Stamets and Reno. I talked to a lot of folks," he said, darkening a little. Then he shook it off. "There's no way to trace who posted your log to the engineering chat group. There were too many people using the general accounts during the update cleanup."

Michael blinked again, surprised. So they weren't discussing her feelings. 

The relief was expected. The tension was not, something in Michael's stomach pulling tight at the lack of resolution. Was he just going to avoid the topic entirely? Even though that had been her plan, something about Pike doing it bothered her. Was her regard not worth a mention? 

Maybe Tilly was onto something when she said she should talk to him about it. 

But then Michael imagined bringing it up...and she just couldn't.

"...oh," she finally offered. 

"I'm sorry. I wish I could hold someone accountable, but..." Pike trailed off, shaking his head like this was a personal failure. 

Inexplicably, Michael wanted to take that burden from him. "Thank you for telling me, sir. Like I said, knowing doesn't really matter. The result remains the same."

Pike held her eyes, unflinching. "I wanted to make this right for you."

Warmth slipped through Michael, the sincerity in his eyes hitting her low. She controlled herself, trying to maintain her focus. "Sometimes things just...are," she offered, a little helpless. 

"Fair enough," he said, soft. Then his gaze sharpened. "But I can still guilt the hell out of them for it."

***

Michael had no choice but to accompany him to the bridge, the silence in the turbolift tense in a way it had never been before. She didn't know if the tension was coming from her, from Pike, or from the situation. He didn't give her any clues, seeming consumed by his thoughts. 

As soon as they stepped onto the bridge the glances started. She _felt_ it as the junior officers looked at them both and then quickly away again, like they'd been caught at something. 

By lunch it would be all over the ship that they had arrived together. Undoubtedly accompanied by all manner of lurid tales about what they had been doing.

Even the thought made her tired.

Pike was either oblivious or above it, heading for the captain's chair determinedly, none of his usual swagger. Michael tracked him as she went to man her own station. This rigid posture was unusual for him. 

And if it was mildly humiliating that she knew his _posture_ well enough to judge...at least it was only in her thoughts. 

As soon as Pike settled, he turned to the comm station with, "Bryce, open a ship-wide channel for me."

"Aye, Captain," Bryce said, immediately doing so. 

"All personnel, this is Captain Pike." Everyone on the bridge turned to him, the note of command in his voice demanding attention. "I've given my life to Starfleet—fought for it, bled for it, sacrificed for it. For the idea of Starfleet, yes, but also for its personnel, whose integrity has never let me down."

Pike paused, taking a breath. "Someone let me down last night. As many of you know, someone posted a personal log to a department chat group, violating not only our procedures, but the basic dignity we all deserve. Now, I don't know who did it, but here's what I can tell you: we're better than this. We don't treat each other this way, like objects of entertainment or gossip. We are professionals. For those of you who live that out, I thank you. For those who have forgotten, heed the words my father passed on to me: treat others like you want to be treated. This is a community. Act like it." He nodded to Bryce, who cut the ship-wide channel. 

The ensuing silence was so complete, it was possible no one was breathing. Even Michael felt a stab of guilt at the _idea _of disappointing this man. And she was the victim here. 

Noticing that no one had moved, Pike looked around. "Back to work," he prompted. The sudden spur of activity was shocking, compared to the stillness. 

Pike looked over to her, tilting his head as if to say, _I tried_. She blinked, something startled slipping through her at the wordless communication, before nodding once. Appreciative. 

She certainly wouldn't want to be the person who posted the log right now. 

***

No other choice but to face it, Michael walked into the mess hall with Tilly, determined to keep her head held high. The room immediately went silent as the crowd turned to look at her. And given how rowdy things got at lunch, that was saying something. 

Tilly glared, putting her hands on her hips in challenge. "What? You don't have anything better to talk about?"

Most people looked away, shamed, the noise level instantly rising. Tilly nodded, once. "That's what I thought." She grabbed Michael's arm and hauled her over to a small table, where Owo and Detmer were saving two seats. Clearly, Tilly had arranged this. 

Fondness swept through Michael, touched that Tilly would go to so much effort. 

Owo and Detmer smiled at her in welcome as Michael sat. Tilly kept standing. "I'm going to get us food. If anyone gets fresh, you have my permission to mock them terribly."

Michael smiled. Like that was ever something she would do. Still: "Thank you, Tilly." 

Then Tilly was gone and Michael turned to the others, who looked at her with sympathy. "How are you?" Owo asked, concern in her dark eyes. 

"I've been better," Michael said, surprising herself with her honesty. 

Detmer reached out and squeezed her hand, supportive. "It'll be okay."

Michael squeezed back with an appreciative smile. She glanced around, noticing the little looks crewmen were sending her way. "What are people saying?" she asked, curious despite herself. 

Detmer shrugged and withdrew her hand. "What you'd expect. A lot of people think it's really messed up for someone to post it like that."

"Highly inappropriate," Owo agreed.

"But no one's faulting your taste," Detmer added, a sly note to her voice. 

Owo smiled a little, tipping her head. "I do believe you broke some hearts, too."

"Yeah, I heard Saito was crying into his cornflakes this morning," Detmer returned. 

Michael blinked, trying to follow the thread, marveling at how casual they were about it all. "What? Why?"

Owo shook her head, her braids swinging around her face. "The captain is not the only one with admirers."

As Michael unscrambled that, Tilly returned, setting a veggie wrap in front of her. She barely even noticed. "What's this about Ensign Saito?"

Tilly shot a look at Owo and Detmer. "You told her?"

Owo shrugged. "Maybe it'll cheer her."

"Will someone please talk to _me_?" Michael bit out. 

Tilly sat down and grabbed her own wrap, grinning unrepentantly. "I know you're all about Pike right now, but you're a catch, too. Some people had designs on you," she said, taking a bite. 

"What?" Michael hissed, disbelief sweeping through her. But that meant—and Ensign Saito? She'd barely spoken ten words to him. How could he—

"Apparently you totally nuked Tactical's betting pool, too," Detmer said, happily shoving a fry into her mouth. 

"Bryce said a few Comms guys were licking their wounds," Owo added, taking a sip of coffee.

Michael stared at them, not quite believing any of this. They were so cavalier. "Do people just talk about this stuff?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes," all three women said at once.

Michael blinked at them, at the thoughtless unanimity, nothing about this giving them pause. "But it's not...appropriate." 

Owo frowned, looking at her curiously. "Why not?"

Detmer nodded at that. "Yeah, I mean, so long as there's no coercion or undermining good order and discipline..."

Michael opened her mouth...but she found she had no real answer beyond the uncomfortable clench in her chest. 

Tilly seemed to read it. "Question," she said, mild. "What was dating like on Vulcan?"

Michael closed her mouth, sitting back stiffly. "Nonexistent."

"Wait, really?" Detmer asked, like she thought Michael might be joking. 

"Vulcans practice arranged marriage. Any social life revolves around that. As a human I was not involved."

All three went silent, Detmer and Owo seeming surprised, Tilly nodding, matter-of-fact. "Well, here in human-land, _everybody's_ involved."

"But isn't that...intrusive?" Michael asked. 

"I mean, if it gets you laid, who cares?" Tilly shot back.

She flushed as Detmer leaned forward, like she needed to get something across. "It's not a big deal, you know. I mean, it's bad form for someone to go posting personal logs without permission, but wanting the captain isn't scandalous or anything. Loads of people want the captain." 

Michael blinked, surprised by that, even as Owo nodded in agreement. "People just like to speculate about the affairs of others."

"In this case literally," Tilly said with a smile. 

"There are no affairs," Michael muttered, still faintly embarrassed. 

"Tragically," Tilly agreed, genial. 

Michael studied them, taking in their easy acceptance. "How are you all so unfazed?" she asked, still unable to believe it. 

Tilly shot her a look. "Embrace your feelings, Michael," she intoned. "The rest of us do."

***

As Michael moved to deposit her tray, she got that prickling feeling along her spine, like someone was watching her. She looked up to find a specialist nearing, an empty tray in hand. Michael tried to remember her name. Wells, maybe?

"You shouldn't ignore it," Wells said as she deposited her tray after Michael's, turning to face her, green eyes piercing. She was young—maybe twenty-five—and human, her brown hair cascading halfway down her back. She was one of those classic beauties, a heart-shaped face and symmetrical features. Michael was pretty sure she'd seen her getting quite a bit of attention at those parties Tilly made her attend. 

They'd never once spoken. 

"I'm sorry?" Michael asked.

"Look, you're all Vulcan and whatever, but of course you want to bang the captain, everyone wants to bang the captain. Straight guys are jerking off over his service record, come on."

Michael stared at her, at a loss. 

Wells shrugged at Michael's non-response, barreling on. "My point is he's super-hot. And nice. So you should go for it. I mean, hell, I did."

_That_ snapped Michael out of it. "You...went for it? With the captain?"

Wells grinned, lighting up her face. "Oh, yeah, week one. He shot me down _so fast_. But, you know, nicely. And like, if I hadn't tried, I woulda kicked myself forever, so. You should, too." 

Michael boggled a little at this news, Pike turning down stunning young women who sought him out for sex. She...didn't know how to respond. 

That was when another specialist appeared, her blue eyes worried. Her skin was darker, hair secured up in a flowing ponytail, as striking as Wells. Michael was pretty sure her name was Larani. "Keeley, we'll be late for shift," she said, a note of disapproval in that.

"Yeah, yeah. I had to tell Burnham to bang the captain." She turned back to Michael. "Ruby went for Pike, too, but she doesn't like to talk about it."

Larani sighed, like she was used to all her secrets being outed. "Thanks for that."

Wells just kept going. "He was nice to her, too. Even nicer than to me."

"Because I didn't go up to him and say, 'I think you're bangin', how 'bout it?'" Larani said, deadpan. 

"Like 'I'd love to get to know you better' is so superior," Wells mocked, friendly, like this was an old debate the two laughed over. 

Larani did smile at it, dimples appearing, even more charmingly attractive for it. 

Michael had _no idea_ that Pike had women like these two regularly propositioning him. 

"My point," Wells said, obviously, "is that you shouldn't feel bad about wanting some of that because _hello_. And also, go for it. Somebody's gotta crack him eventually," she summed up with a nod. 

Then she grabbed Larani's arm and tugged her away, the two of them instantly into some other conversation. 

Michael just stood there blinking after them as Tilly walked up, depositing her tray. "What was that about?" she asked, looking to Wells and Larani, then back to Michael.

"They were telling me what happened when they hit on Pike."

Tilly grinned, bright. "'You're bangin', how 'bout it?' Legendary. Keels is the best. Apparently Pike laughed out loud."

"This is a thing people do?" Michael asked, uncomfortable now, for reasons she didn't understand.

"I mean, have you_ looked_ at the man?" Then she seemed to reconsider. "Well, obviously you have. But you know. New toy. And so shiny."

A terrible thought occurred to Michael. "Wait, have you—"

Tilly held up a hand. "Whoa, there. I would never snake your crush like that."

"You knew?" Michael asked, staring at her in surprise. 

Tilly went sympathetic, like Michael was some precious child. "Oh, Michael. I know _everything_."

***

As they walked down the hall, Michael heard someone call her name. She turned—

To find Ash striding to catch up, brow furrowed. 

Michael blinked, looking to Tilly. "I'm gonna find somewhere else to be," Tilly chirped, cheerful, promptly disappearing down the hall. 

A lot of help she was. 

So Michael took a breath and gestured Ash toward a little alcove off the main hall. She faced him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I suppose you saw my personal log."

"When I get namechecked in something, I like to go to the primary source," he said, a little hurt shining through. "Look, I know things didn't end great, but I didn't think it was that bad."

"It wasn't just about how things ended," Michael said, sighing. 

"No kidding. If I was pushing too hard, why didn't you say something?"

"Because you were pushing too hard," she shot back, obvious. 

"I'm sorry, okay? I thought it was all fun. And I was going through some shit myself."

Michael nodded. "I know. But I also think you wanted what you wanted. It was about _you_."

Ash took that in for a beat, then nodded, once. "...yeah. I get that."

Michael tipped her head, softening a little. "Look, it's fine. It's in the past."

"I don't like that you think of me as some kind of asshole," Ash said, voice wounded. 

Michael uncrossed her arms, deflating a little, that old sadness sweeping through her, the same thing she felt every time she looked at him. "I think of you as a man who loved me and hurt me. And if you didn't want to be remembered that way, then you shouldn't have done it."

With that, she walked off. 

***

The rest of shift passed uneventfully, crew members still looking at her, though the attention lessened as the day went on. Michael forced herself to focus on work, but she kept getting distracted by Pike in her peripheral, checking in with various stations, doing his job. She found herself tracking how often he glanced to her, trying to gauge what those looks meant. Were they pitying? Dismissive? Was he just going to ignore the thing they all knew? 

Even though she'd told Tilly that was her plan, by the end of the day, nerves frayed, she realized it was untenable. Limbo wasn't a place she could live, not for an extended period of time. She needed some closure. 

So after shift ended, she went to his ready room, stomach roiling, but mind made up. They could discuss it and move on. It was the mature response. 

She entered when the doors opened, finding him at his bar cart, filling a glass with a clear liquid. He looked to her and nodded a greeting, waving his glass in offer. "After a day like today, you deserve a drink."

Michael smiled a little. "No, thank you, sir. I'm fine."

Pike nodded and set the bottle aside, taking his glass with him to his desk. He took a sip and set it down, that exhaustion flaring again. He must really be feeling the all-nighter now. 

She decided to make this quick. 

"What's up?" he asked, nothing but welcome in him, despite the long two days. She could see nothing different in how he looked at her, despite the day's revelations. Part of her shrank a little at that; her affections must not really matter all that much, in the grand scheme of things. 

But that was also good to know. 

She steeled herself and looked him in the eye: "I wanted to let you know that I think we should continue on as we have been, despite today. We make a good team. Personal feelings shouldn't get in the way."

Emotion flickered through Pike's eyes so fast it was hard to keep up—surprise melding into worry melding into a shade of what looked like _hurt _before disappearing entirely. "Really," he said, even. 

"Yes, sir. Completing our mission is the priority, after all."

Pike held her gaze. "I realize I haven't said it directly, but I hope you know that I hold you in the highest regard. After Mr. Saru, your counsel is the most valuable to me. Maybe more so in some ways."

Something in Michael deflated. She hadn't realized she'd been hoping, but hearing the kind rejection that Tilly had predicted...it stung. 

But no, this was better. They could clear the air and move on as before, with none of the day's uncertainty.

Pike wasn't done yet, his eyes going sincere. "A captain can be an intimidating presence, I recognize that, but if there's something I could be doing better, some way I could improve, I hope you would feel comfortable telling me."

"Improve?" Michael asked, confused. Where was he going with this?

"As Starfleet officers, we can always do better. We all have blind spots, so it's important to have people who can point those out. If I'm doing something that's a problem, I'd like to know about it," he clarified. 

It really didn't clarify anything. "What are you talking about?"

Pike's brow furrowed. "Whatever it is I've done that would make you need to set aside your personal feelings to be able to work with me." He looked at her, imploring. "I know the _Discovery_ has been through a lot. I want to do the best I can for everyone."

Michael blinked, horror dawning. He had completely misinterpreted her statement. He thought she had a problem with him. 

_He didn't know_. 

"Sir," she said, voice shaking a little. "Did you see the personal log that was posted?"

Pike frowned. "Of course not. I would never—that's a total invasion of privacy," he said, actually offended. 

"And no one discussed it with you," Michael surmised, her dim horror only deepening. 

"You better believe I shut that down. Treating your peers with such disrespect. And for gossip." He shook his head, expecting better. 

Michael swallowed. She'd have to tell him. She couldn't have him thinking that she held some kind of contempt for him. It was cruel. 

She had to _tell_ him. 

Michael closed her eyes, gathering herself. She was a Starfleet officer. She did the hard thing. They all did. 

Then she settled herself and looked at him. "As I'm sure you've gathered, I'm very circumspect about my personal life. I think that's why people are so interested."

Pike nodded, something confused about him now. 

Michael just kept on going. "In the log I discussed some of my relationships. Some things about Tyler. A mention of Lorca." Pike blinked, like that was the last thing he'd expected. "I also talked about some...affections I have for you."

_Something_ flashed across his expression, a look Michael had never seen before, but he ruthlessly quashed it, face a neutral mask. "...oh."

"That's what I meant about personal feelings. I'm sorry if my phrasing gave the wrong impression. I also hold you in the highest regard. The _Discovery_ couldn't have a finer captain."

"I appreciate that," he said, slow. "I'm sorry, too. We were...having two different conversations there."

"So it seems."

"It's—I don't mean to pry, but...Lorca?" he asked, a faint air of concern around him now. 

Michael flushed, not expecting _that_ to be the thing he honed in on. "I didn't—apparently in his universe, he and my counterpart were...close. That was part of the reason he had me assigned to the _Discovery_. His Michael was dead and he wanted..." The more she talked, the more horror leaked into Pike's expression, his captain's mask cracking. She rushed to reassure him. "I only realized once I got over there and his intentions became...clear."

Pike was clearly troubled. "His intentions."

She gestured randomly, a shade helpless. "I think he wanted me to...be her. But it was a foolish hope. He never would have been satisfied. I'm not her, not even close." She shook her head, still unable to reconcile it. "Although, I don't know, perhaps the superficial was enough for him."

Pike stared at her for a moment...and then took a breath. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Michael swallowed. "It's—it's in the past."

Pike nodded, a meditative air around him now. "Thank you for telling me. You should get some rest."

Relief flushed through her; she didn't want to talk about Lorca anymore. Or ever again. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." 

It was only as she was walking out that she realized he hadn't addressed her attraction at all. 

***

"I hate to say it, but maybe that was addressing it?" Tilly said, gentle. 

Michael studied her clasped hands, swallowing the sting. "You don't think he'd be more direct?"

Tilly furrowed her brow, thinking it through. She brushed her curls behind her back, shrugging a little. "It might be his way of letting you save face. You both know. You talked about it. Now you can just...let it lie."

Michael nodded, trying not to let her disappointment show. "It makes sense."

Clearly she had failed because Tilly looked at her with the softest eyes. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Doing nothing had been my plan all along. This is the same, only now everyone is aware. I should be satisfied."

Tilly nodded. "Yep, that sounds super reasonable and logical and not at all how human emotions work."

Michael smiled, but she knew it wasn't happy. "I don't know why you like feelings so much."

Tilly joined her on her bed, slinging her arm over Michael's shoulder and leaning against her. "Yeah, they really suck sometimes. I can admit that, too."

"...yeah."

Tilly just sat with her for a few moments, the rare quiet settling around them. Finally she met Michael's eyes and nudged her. "C'mon. Let's go stuff our faces. Food makes everything better."

Michael looked at her askance. "I don't know about that."

"No, it actually wasn't a point for debate. This is empirical fact," she declared as she stood, bright and teasing, trying to lighten the mood. 

Michael smiled for that more than anything. "I think you're going to have to cite your sources, Ensign," she said, letting Tilly draw her out, appreciating that she had friends who would do so. 

It was enough. 

***

Michael was half dressed when their door chimed the next morning, before shift. She frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone. She quickly pulled on her undershirt and made sure she was presentable before calling out, "Come in." The doors slid open—

And _Pike_ walked in. She stilled, an icy pit forming in her gut. He was _here_, his exhaustion obviously gone, all neat and correct in his uniform. 

But why was he _here_?

He nodded to her, polite. "Sorry to interrupt your morning." 

"You're—it's fine," she said, trying to control the beating of her heart, hoping he couldn't read anything on her face. 

"Is Ensign Tilly around?" he asked, still neutrally polite.

Michael blinked. Was that why he was here? He wanted to see Tilly? "She's on her morning run," she said carefully, like she might be missing something. 

Pike nodded, like that made sense. "Right, of course." He shook his head a little, like he was kicking himself, but why would he do that?

"I can tell her you stopped by," she offered. That was the polite thing to do. 

Amusement flashed over his face. "No, I wanted to see you. Alone."

She stared at him blankly as her heart _pulsed_. He wanted to see her, without Tilly. 

She had no idea how to feel about that. 

But she was a Starfleet officer, dammit. So she squared her shoulders and met his eyes. 

Pike smiled, like he knew what she was doing. Kind. "At ease, Michael. This isn't an official visit."

"That makes it worse," she said without thought, immediately wishing she hadn't. 

He didn't take offense, simply nodded in agreement. "I understand that, but I realized that you brought up something and I hadn't actually responded. I don't like leaving things hanging."

Michael swallowed, knowing exactly what he meant, some part of her wishing that he would have just let it lie. 

But no. That wasn't who he was. 

She nodded and stayed quiet as his gaze seemed to go inward. "I appreciate your...forthrightness in telling me directly. It's just—I'm not much one for—as captain I try to remain above the affairs that I know some others engage in. It's not a judgment," he added, like he wanted that clear. "The idea is just kind of exhausting."

Michael's eyes widened as she realized what he was trying to say. He thought she wanted him for sex. Or, at least, that that was her primary focus. He thought she was hitting on him like Wells and Larani had. 

"Computer," Michael cut in, Pike stopping to look at her, confused. "Play Personal Log Stardate 1038.3." 

The computer chimed even as Pike said, "You don't have to—" But then the log was playing and Pike fell silent, like he didn't want to interrupt her, even in video form. 

Instead of watching the log again, Michael watched him. He blinked when she said it wasn't just physical, something warming around his eyes as she talked about his integrity. 

The stuff about Tyler erased all that, Pike's expression going vaguely unhappy. He darkened further at the mention of Lorca, still troubled by that. 

His reaction eased again when she got back to talking about him, about her trust in him. Something vaguely challenging appeared when she derided her crush, Michael frowning at that reaction, not understanding. 

Finally, it got to her last line, a helpless, "But he really makes it very hard." Then the video blinked out. 

Pike took an unsteady breath, turning wide eyes to her, blue and startled. 

"I figured this was the best way to be clear," Michael said, quiet. "I know others have approached you for—but it's not just about the physical for me." 

Pike studied her for a silent moment, _too much_ in his eyes, nothing Michael could read. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Computer, play the Captain's Personal Log from four days ago. Authorization Pike-1."

Michael frowned, confused, as the computer chimed and another video appeared. It was Pike looking into the camera, clearly after a long day, his jacket collar undone and half-unzipped. Seeing Pike mussed made her feel—

Anyway. Michael focused on him as he relayed the date, then sighed. 

_“Our search for the red angel signals, and the location of Mr. Spock, continues apace, though I wish we were making more progress. Aside from my desire to complete our mission, it might be good to have something else to focus on.“ Pike went quiet as he contemplated something, troubled. “I find myself quite taken with one of my bridge crew. Burnham—Michael—she's beyond brilliant, creative and insightful, always surprising me. Not to mention gorgeous. And Spock's sister, it turns out. Number One laughed her ass off when she heard that one.“_

Heat swept through Michael—a rush of embarrassment instantly followed by a wave of lust. Her eyes flew to Pike in shock. He met her gaze, tilting his head, a nonverbal _can you blame me_?

The log kept going:

_“She thinks it's a good thing, that I should put myself out there and express interest. Sometimes I think there might be something there, that the feelings might be mutual. Michael can be so open with me...“ Pike looked almost hopeful at that idea, though it quickly dimmed. “But other times she's wholly formal, even distant. I can't get a straight read on it. And so I doubt.“_

Michael blinked at the uncertainty in that statement, nothing she'd ever seen in him before. He was always so assured, so in control. The idea that she challenged that...

_“Lorca was...aggressive. I suspect even abusively so. It's taken a bit of doing to get the crew to trust me. My highest priority is maintaining that trust. I wouldn't want it to seem like I was...taking advantage. So my gut is to leave it alone. Number One disagrees, of course, but I can't—I won't let my feelings interfere with the crew. It's a non-starter.“ Pike half-shrugged. “As with many things in this job, it's easier said than done. But I'm resolute.“_

With that, the log disappeared, Michael staring into the blank space it had occupied. Pike...wanted her. He fretted over it, just as she had. He'd tried to stay professional. 

She wasn't alone in this. 

Relief slammed into her, followed by heat. _He wanted her_. 

Michael turned to him. "You aren't taking advantage," she said, the words tumbling out without conscious thought. She could barely believe what she was saying, but..._he wanted her_. 

Pike shook his head, something still weighing on him. "The captain is the final authority on the ship. Starfleet instills obedience in all of us. Deference to the chain of command."

Michael stepped close, putting her hand on his chest. Underneath her fingers, she could feel his heart beating. Pike's eyes flew to her hand, wide, then back to her face. "Interpersonal dynamics can be tricky for me. Growing up on Vulcan, I didn't learn all the same social cues." She took a breath, admitting, "I had no idea you felt this way. Wanting you...that was all me."

Pike breathed out, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over it carefully, like she couldn't possibly be real. "I didn't see this coming."

Michael nodded, his touch sparking heat along her cheek, spreading from there, a slow slide down her spine that suffused everything. "But do you want it?" she asked, low. 

His lips quirked, just slight, and then he moved forward, pressing his mouth to hers, achingly slowly, like he wanted to get it right. 

Michael tilted her face up, leaning into him, returning the kiss, equally slow. His lips were soft, coaxing, Pike learning the shape of her mouth like it was something to savor. 

Eventually he pulled back, his hand still cupping her cheek. He quirked his lips again, but this time there was something glad around his eyes, a wild kind of happiness he couldn't quite suppress. "Wanting you has consumed me," he breathed. 

Michael _surged_ up for his mouth, kissing him heatedly, her hand sliding from his chest to the back of his neck and anchoring there, pulling him close. 

Pike groaned, falling into the kiss, opening his mouth when Michael nipped at his bottom lip, brushing the barest hint of his tongue against hers.

It woke up nerve endings _everywhere_, her body realizing he was here, pressed up against her, all bunched muscle and beautiful hands. He _wanted _her. 

Michael inched closer, flicking her tongue against his and getting a groan for the effort. Pike's arms closed around her, the strength in them going straight to her head. She sagged against him, feeling him take some of her weight, supporting her, even as he tilted his head and kissed her some more, slow and thorough. She wanted to feel him everywhere, skin to skin, her body already lit up and responding to the way he held her, one hand stroking down her back. It shouldn't feel erotic and yet it did, everything in her reaching for him—

Michael didn't hear the door open, but Tilly's, "Holy crap," certainly cut through the faint ringing in her ears. 

Pike broke the kiss, a little rueful as he turned his head to look at the doorway. Michael followed suit, clocking Tilly, shirt sweaty from her run, staring at them with wide blue eyes. 

"Good morning, Ensign," Pike murmured, like there was nothing unusual about finding him wrapped around Michael in the early hours.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. I'm just going to—" She made to leave, but Pike stepped away from Michael, cold air rushing in, bringing reality with it. 

"No need. I was just on my way out."

"Didn't look like it," Tilly muttered, eyes still wide. 

The corners of Pike's lips curled, but he didn't engage, looking to Michael, such warmth in his eyes. "I'll see you later?" he asked, soft.

Michael nodded, not trusting her voice, everything in her wanting to haul him back, make Tilly leave, and let the heat between them burn through them both. 

But. He was leaving. 

Pike nodded back, tipped his head at Tilly, and was gone. 

Tilly's eyes followed him out, then swung to Michael, shocked. 

"Please don't tell anyone," Michael said. 

The squeal that followed was downright unseemly. 

***

Seeing him on the bridge all morning was torturous. He was utterly professional, no different than any other day, and yet all Michael could do was replay that kiss in her mind, over and over again, heat flushing through her. She was pretty sure Pike noticed, sending her a few knowing glances that only distracted her more. 

How did people _stand_ this?

***

Michael hung back after the morning briefing, needing to talk to him. The heat still simmered in her blood, but now, after time to think, it was overlaid with uncertainty. She'd gotten caught up in it, earlier. The idea that Pike wanted her. She'd let it carry her through, into his arms. But...what did that mean? How did it play out? 

Unwilling to let the questions fester, she decided to ask. If they were going to be...in some kind of relationship, she could ask. 

Couldn't she?

Pike waited for the others to clear out, watching her, eyes so incredibly warm. "Hi," he said once they were alone, moving around his desk to pull her into his arms. 

The touch buzzed through her, both exciting and relaxing her at once. "I keep—you're _very_ distracting."

He flashed a grin at her. "Noticed that. Not gonna apologize," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her once, like that was something they did. 

Michael fell into it for a moment, but then pulled back. "How is this going to work?" she asked, a little bewildered. "I've never—I still think of you as 'Pike' in my head."

His lips quirked. "'Chris' is fine," he drawled. 

Michael hit him playfully even as the name reverberated in her head, something so _personal _about it. "I'm serious."

Pike—_Chris_—sobered. "I know. As for how this works...it's however we want it to."

"I don't know how I want it to," she admitted, soft. 

He nodded. "We start small. Have lunch with me," he offered, running a soothing hand down her back. 

Michael shivered at the touch, even though there was nothing sexual about it. "We do that, everyone will know."

Chris tilted his head. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It's just—they'll talk."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but they already are," he said, dry. 

Michael studied him. "Do you...want everyone to know?"

Chris brought one hand up to cup her cheek, touching her gently, like she was a marvel. "Not actively. But I don't hide the things I care about."

The affection behind that statement went straight to her head, swamping her in _feeling_. Leading her to wonder...why did _she_ want to hide it?

"Okay," she said, a little breathless. "We can have lunch."

One side of his mouth quirked up, something like hope. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she breathed, smiling as he leaned down for another kiss. 

***

Though the looks had mostly stopped the day before, when Michael walked into the mess hall with Chris they started all over again, smiling glances that pressed against Michael from all sides, sudden silence followed by everyone talking at once. 

Chris just shook his head and turned to her. "Grab a table. I'll get food."

Michael nodded, taking up one of the just-emptying little white tables—the same one they'd sat at when Tilly had first brought the news about her personal log. 

How quickly things changed.

It wasn't long before Chris was back, sliding a veggie wrap in front of her before taking his own seat. Her eyes flew to his, surprised. 

"What?" he asked, open and curious and warm. So warm. 

"This is my favorite wrap."

He quirked one of those half-grins, eyes sparkling. "You think I don't know what you like?" Whatever he saw on her face made his smile deepen. "You're a little distracting yourself, Commander."

Michael flushed. 

***

She was just depositing her tray when she felt that prickling along her back again. It was no surprise to find Wells depositing her own tray, looking to Michael in approval. "You know you have to share with the class, right?"

Michael blinked. "I have no context for that statement."

"When you get his dick, we all get to hear about it. It's, like, a rule," Wells clarified, like this was obvious. 

Embarrassment flushed through Michael at the idea that people were already speculating about her sex life. Her _nonexistent _sex life. "That's a _terrible _rule."

Wells shrugged, brushing her long brown hair back. "I didn't make it."

"Wait, are you saying people _talk _about their loves lives?"

Wells eyed her strangely. "Um, duh. How else do you know who's any good?"

Michael just blinked at her for a moment. There was a whole _world_ on this ship she knew absolutely nothing about. "I'll just be...going now," she finally said, turning for the door, where Chris stood waiting.

"Sharing is caring!" Wells called after her.

Chris looked at Michael strangely as she joined him. "What was that about?"

"I couldn't even begin to say."

***

Except now that Wells had brought it up, all Michael could think about was sex. Memories of their first kiss turned into _more_, Michael's brain extrapolating out from the strength in his hands, how he touched her, the softness of his lips. Her mind took all that and snippets she'd heard from others, piecing together fantasies—Chris pushing her up against walls, dropping to his knees before her, his eyes burning bright as he worshipped her body. 

Michael was uncomfortably aware of her lust, the heat between her legs distracting her every time she moved, skin buzzing with excitement. But at the same time, she knew that Chris had turned down untold others who had propositioned him. Was there some form of appropriate waiting period before you had sex? These were the unwritten rules of relationships that Michael had never learned. 

Clearly, she needed Tilly.

***

"Nah, you can hit that any time," Tilly said easily. She sat on her bunk, pulling her hair out of her bun and offering this up like discussing it was no big deal. And here Michael had worked herself into knots just asking the question. 

Human sexual behavior just eluded her sometimes. 

Michael tried to stay focused, frowning. "But he turned down those others," she said, trying to reason it out. "He said he tries to stay above the affairs that other people engage in."

"Right, so he doesn't go for casual. I mean, I kinda don't trust a man who says he's opposed to getting his dick wet, but it's the captain, so you know." Tilly absently shook her hair out. 

Michael opened her mouth, then closed it again. She _didn't_ know. But she also didn't think following that line of conversation would be productive. 

"I suppose my question is, will it seem like I'm one of those people if I want to sleep with him so soon?"

Tilly pinned her with a knowing look. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you and the captain aren't even in the same _quadrant_ as casual."

Michael flushed. "I have no idea what that means."

"All the staring? Pulling you aside in the halls to have quiet conversations about your feelings? Discussing philosophy and trust and religion and Shakespeare? And did I mention all the staring? There has been so much staring, holy crap. You burn holes through his clothes with your eyes. I mean, not that I blame you; that man has an ass for days."

Michael flushed again, not engaging on_ that_. "You weren't even there for most of that. How could you possibly—"

"Section 31 has nothing on my spies, come on." She considered for a beat. "Actually, don't tell Tyler I said that. I don't wanna end up at some black site because they feel all threatened."

"Tilly."

"Oh, and if you do jump his bones, just make sure you're not in public. Someone will come alert me. And I love you, but I really don't need to see that."

"_Tilly_," Michael said again, exasperation leaking in.

"Yeah, you should definitely just push him up against a wall or something. It'll totally help with all this frustration," she said, gesturing expansively at Michael's form. 

"This was entirely unhelpful," Michael shot back. 

"You keep telling yourself that," she grinned, unrepentant.

***

Michael approached the doors to Chris' quarters, determined. Despite what Tilly thought, the best way to move forward was to talk to him about it. People in a relationship could do that. 

She moved to press the chime to his doors, surprised when they opened before her. Michael paused, expecting him to walk out...but he didn't.

And then it hit her. He'd given her access to his quarters. She'd never even been here, but he'd made sure she could enter without asking permission. 

The idea made her flush. 

Michael stepped inside, a little hesitant, slowing as she took in the rooms. She'd been so focused on the idea of the two of them together, she hadn't even thought about what his quarters would look like. She was surprised everything was so...warm. He had all the usual components—meal table, sitting area, work desk, bedroom off to the side—but little accents were scattered throughout that made it personal, individual. They were all warm, earth-toned touches, everything from southwestern-style blankets and rugs to bronze accent pieces, purely decorative. They made it feel like a home. 

Amidst it, the man himself, settled on the couch with a PADD, relaxed in gray sleep pants and a shirt, like he was winding down before bed. He watched her take in the room, a pleased curl to his mouth. His eyes were so soft. 

Michael took a few more steps into the main room, eyes on his. "You gave me access to your quarters," she said, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.

"I did," he agreed, setting his PADD aside and standing, moving toward her. 

"I've never even been here," she said, like a faint protest.

Chris stepped close, draping loose arms around her, pulling her against him. Her hands landed on his shirt, the material soft as her fingers curled into it. "I want you to be able to come here, whenever you want," he said, holding her eyes, his look encouraging. "Even if I'm not here."

Warmth slipped through her, the idea of curling up here calling to her, even aside from the desire still bubbling inside. "That isn't...too much?" she asked.

Chris shrugged, bringing one hand up to trace her jaw, like he was transfixed by her. "I don't think I can get enough of you, Michael Burnham," he rumbled. "But I know it's a lot, so we can ease into it. Baby steps." He smiled, kind. 

Lust swept through her, stealing her breath. "Do baby steps include sex?" she asked on a rush, her body alive and wanting, insistent. 

Chris laughed, once. Then he leaned close, kissing the tip of her nose, so much affection in his eyes. "Is that what you want?"

"I don't want you _just_ for sex," she said, because that needed to be clear. 

Chris sparkled at her, amusement and heat all mixed together, his arm flexing around her, his scent close. "So I gathered."

"But I do want you," she said, shamefully breathless at having him pressed against her, yet unable to find it within herself to care. 

His gaze darkened with promise. "Anything you want, Michael."

She made a strangled noise and gripped his shirt, pulling him into a kiss. 

Chris didn't hesitate, kissing her back, _hmming_ against her mouth contentedly as he explored, thorough and skilled. There was heat to it, urgency without feeling rushed, like they could take the time to enjoy each other. 

When he pulled back to quirk another half-smile at her, his eyes glittering with heat, Michael just stared at him. "I think you should show me your bedroom now."

***

It was different, sleeping with someone who wanted more than just the sex. In Michael's early forays into this kind of intimacy, the guys had just wanted her body, a night of pleasure, without thought to anything more. Those times had been hasty, fumbling, young men distracted by their own lust, half-remembering her pleasure after the fact. If at all.

Ash had been something else. He had wanted _her_, true, but it had always been first and foremost about his desires. In the beginning it almost seemed like she was a prize to be won. Later...then it all got wrapped up in sadness and the horror of the Mirror universe, being isolated and alone, Ash her only lifeline. And then, of course, came the end. 

But Chris...he was something else. He smiled as he slowly pulled off her clothes, distracted by the skin revealed, detouring to explore. His mouth left trails of fire along her arms, around her knee, anyplace he found interesting. The hint of stubble only added to the sensations, Michael shivering at the sheer _feeling_ sweeping her. 

It seemed like actually having sex with her was beside the point, like he'd be content just to explore her body with his fingers and his mouth, seeing what made her react the strongest. Like he wanted to...play. He touched her, kissed her, pressed against her, but he still held himself apart, not letting things progress too fast. 

It was insanely arousing. 

When she was down to her underwear, Chris still in his sleep clothes and seeming fascinated by the shivers he could get nibbling at her hipbone, that was when Michael finally had it.

She firmed her hand on his jaw, getting his attention. Blue eyes swung to hers, a question there. "You're surprisingly unfocused, Captain," she said, smiling a little to gentle it. 

He flashed her a mischievous half-grin. "Want me to draw up an OPORD?" he joked, warm. 

"Will it get us back to mission objective?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "You think I've strayed from our objective, Commander?" he challenged, flirtatious. 

Michael shifted underneath him, brushing her body against his, a goad. "That depends entirely on your definition of the objective, doesn't it?"

"Mine was turning you on and then getting you off," he said, eyes darkening as he watched her move.

"Well, you're halfway there," she shot back. She plucked at his shirt, pointed. "Could be closer."

Chris smirked and shucked his shirt instantly, shifting away to tug his sleep pants off, kicking them somewhere. He was as muscled as he'd seemed—their uniforms didn't hide much—with an unconscious grace as he moved. His cock was hard, flushed and full between his thighs. She took him in for a moment, heat curling through her belly at the sight, before he was back, settling over her, Michael gasping at the feeling of skin on skin, the overwhelming heat of him above her. 

Chris' fingers worked at the back of her bra, unclasping it and tugging it away, his mouth descending hungrily to her breasts. The pleasure of it sharpened, arrowing through her, the want pulsing between her legs more urgent now. 

"Inside me," she gasped, hand buried in his hair as he laved her nipple, then bit at it lightly. She groaned, her other hand digging into the muscles of his shoulders, feeling that strength again. 

Chris blew out against her breast, then lifted his head, meeting her eyes. "Yeah?" he asked, breathy. 

Michael nodded, moving against him restlessly, the shift in position pressing her hip to his erection, making both of them hiss. Chris closed his eyes and dropped his head as Michael did it again, gently undulating against him. She dragged her hand from his shoulder down his body, circling his cock and squeezing gently, feeling the pulse of heat there, the way he responded to her touch. 

Chris moaned, uncontrolled, something about it startling Michael. She'd never heard him so abandoned. She kept her hand light, not wanting to push too far, Chris wetly panting against her breast. 

Finally he pulled away with a breathless, "Okay, okay," taking her hand from him with pleading eyes. 

Michael relented, moving her hands to her own body, pushing at her panties, Chris shifting back to give her room, his eyes almost black with lust. Once she got rid of them, he rolled between her legs, mouth finding hers again even as he shifted up, pressing her thighs open, making space for himself. 

Something about it flushed through Michael, even though it was exactly what she'd wanted. There was so much vulnerability in this. 

But as Chris pulled out of the kiss to smile at her, that feeling faded, replaced with the lust and affection and sheer trust she felt every time she was with him.

"You good?" he asked, running one hand from her thigh, up her stomach, over her breast, to her jaw, an endless slide that she felt _everywhere_. 

"Yeah, please," she said, wrapping her legs around his hips, urging him on. 

Chris cradled her face and shifted over her, pressing his cock to her entrance with a small breath out. He held her gaze as he finally sank into her, Michael making a small noise as he thrust smoothly inside, her body adjusting to him automatically, feeling so full. 

He kissed all over her face, giving her time to get used to him, holding himself completely still, a measure of control that was frankly shocking. This was where the other men she'd been with usually lost themselves, taken over by their lust. 

Chris just continued kissing her, hands trailing over her body, little shivers of sensation tingling wherever he touched. 

Michael made a wanting noise and pulled out of the kiss, nodding at him. "I'm okay, you can—"

She expected him to pull out and slam into her, hard and fast. So the gentle flexing was a surprise, Chris only retreating the barest inch before thrusting back in again, setting up a rhythm where he went deeper every time. He tilted her hips, shifting angles minutely, until she cried out as he hit something that_ flared_ inside her. "_Yes_," she gasped, pleasure mingling with surprise.

Chris made a satisfied noise into her mouth and repeated that motion, kissing her as he rocked into her, inexorable. "So good," he murmured into her mouth, pleasure thick in his voice, like he was drunk with it. "Everything about you..."

Chris pressed his fingers between them, playing over her clit, and Michael gasped, everything going hotter, slippery and bright. He was relentless, seeming tireless, as he thrust into her over and over and _over_, whispering praise and endearments, until she couldn't remember anything but what it felt like to have him inside her, driving her out of her mind. He made encouraging noises into her mouth as she trembled, on a knife's edge of pleasure. 

Firm pressure on her clit flung her into an orgasm that still somehow surprised her, Michael crying out into his mouth as her body clenched and fluttered around him, Chris still rocking into her, fingers moving over her as she came and _came_. 

Somewhere in there, she heard him groan, his rhythm stuttering as his own orgasm took him, coming in long pulses she could _feel_. He never stopped moving his hand, not until she hissed and shuddered against him, overstimulated. 

Then he pulled his hand back, still slowly grinding into her, stoking the aftershocks. He kissed her, gentler now, more sharing air than anything else, sweat mixing between them. 

Michael breathed against his mouth, the muscles in her thighs trembling where they were still wrapped around him, nothing she could control. He ran soothing hands over her legs, leaving trails of sensation at the touch, not arousing so much as comforting. Gentling. 

"You okay?" he rumbled, eyes glassy, still so close, inside her, body blanketing hers, heat still bleeding between them.

"Perfect," she gasped, searching for the words, drunk on this _feeling_. "I'm perfect."

Chris smiled a little, dipping his head down to kiss her as he murmured, "You certainly are."

***

"Burnham, wait up!" a voice called from down the hall. 

Michael turned to find an engineering ensign approaching, all blond hair and blue eyes, classic chiseled looks. She thought his name might be Jansen. "Can I help you?"

"Uhhh, shit, I just forgot everything I was gonna say."

"Well, all right then." Michael turned to go—

But Jansen called out, "No, wait!" 

Michael turned back, raising an expectant eyebrow. 

Jansen's cheeks pinked, eyes looking down, clearly embarrassed. It pinged something in the back of her mind, Owo and Detmer talking about her breaking hearts. "Look, it's Jansen, right?" Off his sheepish nod, she continued, "If this is about making an advance, I'm not really..." She trailed off as he waved his hands a little, shaking his head. 

"No no no no. It's not that. I mean, not that you're not gorgeous, because _hello_, but also, you're totally intimidating and could probably kill me in three seconds without even trying."

"Probably," she agreed with a tiny smile. 

Oddly, Jansen winced. "But, uhh, you know that whole thing where your personal log got posted?" He took a breath. "Yeah, that was me. I'm really sorry. It wasn't supposed to go—but it doesn't matter. I will do whatever you want to make it right. I'll go to the captain and fess up right now, even though he's, like, even more terrifying than you," he said in a rush, like he just wanted to get the words out. 

Michael blinked. She hadn't expected to ever find out what really happened. Having it land in her lap was...disorienting. 

"Wait, _you_ posted it to the engineering chat group?"

Jansen went vaguely mulish, clearly frustrated by something. "It wasn't supposed to be to the whole group. I was just sending it to Saito to help him, ya know, get over his crush. But then it accidentally got sent to everyone and I couldn't delete it fast enough."

"Why were you even looking at it?" Michael asked, irritation leaking into her voice. 

"I was just testing random logs to see if they got all jacked in the transfer to the secure servers," he protested, holding out his hands in innocence. "And then I knew Saito had a thing and, look, it was wrong. I know it was wrong. I am fully prepared for the captain to glare at me and, like, bust me down to cadet. I accept that. It was my bad."

Michael stared at him, reading his genuine remorse. Dimly, she realized he could've gotten away with it. He didn't have to be here right now, offering to turn himself in. He was doing so because he clearly felt bad. 

Faced with Jansen obviously kicking himself, her anger—still lingering, even days later—faded. It would be one thing if his actions were malicious, but everything about him screamed sincerity. He seemed like a young man who'd made a foolish error because of bad judgment, hurting Michael in the process, if unintentionally.

But what to do with this information? Protocol dictated she report it to the captain for punishment—and Chris _would_ punish him—but something about that struck her as wrong. He'd accepted responsibility and he clearly wouldn't do it again. What would reporting it up the chain accomplish?

Michael made a snap decision: "Go tell Tilly what you did and that I said she should devise an appropriate punishment."

Jansen blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to change my mind?"

"No," he said quickly. "Nope, I'm good. Just—thank you. And you know, sorry." He turned to go, then turned back like he'd just remembered something. "Oh, and Keels said something about reminding you of the rule?"

Michael gestured him down the hall. "Go."

Eyes wide, he nodded. "Going, going. Sorry. Just...thank you."

Michael watched him hurry off, like if he got out of sight fast enough she'd forget it ever happened. 

Left alone in the hallway, Michael just laughed. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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